Lee Dunn

Sixty something working stiff (retired). Avid reader, dreamer, and searcher. I write poetry, short stories, and non fiction. Shades of the surreal, the horrific, the nostalgic, and the humorous. I have had work published in the Shelburne Free Press, on Spillwords Literary Press, and in print at Crepe & Penn Poetry.


If you found me this evening time (for such it is),  you would know things that have been out of your sight.  The way that I put on my skin and my bones.    How my legs bend after dark.  What I do with the possibility of fingers.  How my movements compare to yours, since […]


Ember month

Sundown at Nipissing’s shoreline, and the big lake begins its freeze. The soft fire of November’s embers pleases the eye, but can’t warm us. I stand in the cold cold sand that waits for winter’s cover, and think of unimportant things: that there will be no more drifting things, maybe until June. And, where do […]


By the sea

Clarice sees the Sea, breathes its dreams, soaks in its mists by a foggy rock. When all the world’s compasses begin to list to her true north, Clarice will speak in tongues, and name the Suns, in legion. Glory will be to the one who is not named, and who was the maker of her […]


Planters wart

Johnny-come-lately, I plant bulbs stupidly in the cooling earth under powder of snow with a straight spade I dig up cake-flaps of sod I disregard directions and just drop them in, the oniony things. This blasted blizzard. I drop to one knee, hard of breathing, hit by BB’s of ice


a longing

gimme that potato salad with the mustard sauce and the bacon those fried mushrooms with the smell rising mind my big nose pressed flatly against foggy glass approve my flirtatious hands as they make fake feetprints for amusement, in lieu of art, on grey glass in threenight, i will be at this same tall door […]